


Melted Snow Child

by FancyLadySnackCakes



Series: Charity [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Canonical language, Drabble, F/M, Longing, Novel Based, One Shot, Romance, Romantic Tension, Sansa as the Lady of Winterfell, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, emotional tension, fantasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyLadySnackCakes/pseuds/FancyLadySnackCakes
Summary: Anonymous asked: Anything with your headcanon Sandor and Sansa. If that’s a ship you’re okay with writing of course. :DA/N: Thank you for your charity donation, Anon! I hope you and everyone else who reads this enjoys my little dive into Sansa/Sandor. I prefer fanfiction based on a free and grown Sansa Stark who knows what she wants and a sober, angry dog Sandor that struggles with newfound honor. I hope you enjoy it!
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Charity [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773541
Comments: 13
Kudos: 67





	Melted Snow Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anonymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous/gifts).



She was a woman grown now, but every time he looked that Lady in the eye, he saw those misty blues of a young, beaten child, no more blooded than a freshly-scrubbed babe. Her handmaidens could dress her in the most elegant silks, douse her in perfumed oils and colored powders all they desired, but it made no difference to him. She was a child still, somewhere… deep down, because there was no real for Lady Stark to desire a filthy, old dog like Sandor Clegane.

The Queen of Winterfell stood no more than a few inches taller than she was then, under the shade of green hellfire more than two long winters ago. Though her features had slimmed into that of a true Lady, Sandor knew better.

At the feasting hall, he stood sentry, waiting for someone to twitch too close to his Lady so that he might take this throbbing ache in his blood and exorcise it with violence. The glances of blue ice she continued devouring him with were affecting him more than any whores touch had before. Attention - paid to him by a girl he once threatened with his sword and his cock - caressed the knitted scars down his face with her looks, making a heated flame beneath the firm flesh blister and grow.

Her words from earlier, on their walk to the hall from her chambers, echoed between his ears.

'Think on me as a woman while you stand by my side, Clegane, for it is what I am now.'

Sandor knew better than to take his eyes off the occupants devouring their meals, which made it all the easier to reject that notion. In his memory of her, it was easy to see only the babe - only the naive and courteous little bird. Her chirps recited from centuries-old septa teachings. So small and weak.

Eventually, the main course was removed from the long tables, and dessert of honey-roasted fig meal cake that smelt of summer came and, as the rest, soon went. Sour wine was offered to him during the last legs of the evening, but he snarled at the serving wench, and off she flew. There was only one woman his sneers never worked on… only one reason he kept out of his cups these days.

But she was a child, not a woman grown…

"Clegane," sugared words of sweet ice spoke to him.

Sandor shrugged off his nerves and the hot iron in his blood. His Lady was done, and so too was he - done in the halls at least. 

She lifted her hand from her lap, casting him a wan smile as he took it in the body-warmed gauntlet longing to grasp soft skin. Now that he had to look at her, it was painfully apparent how much she'd grown. No, she was not much taller, and no, she wasn't as curvaceous as other women her age… yet she was a woman.

Her beauty was nearly revolting, sending his guts into torn knots, wiggling with rot and desire. She either truly wanted him, or she found pleasure in teasing the man who once found joy in tormenting her soul for his own sick desires. Whatever Little Finger put her through in The Veil must have scarred her mind for the Lady of Winterfell to consider taking a beaten dog into her bed.

The walkways to her chambers were nearly deserted. Only a maid with soiled sheets saw them walking too closely, her Lady purposefully taking slower steps to be closer to her Sworn Shield. 

Once they were alone, aside from the whispering torches, Sansa looked to him with a coy expression, "Did you succeed in your noble convictions, Clegane?"

His upper lip twitched upwards, exposing naked teeth and puckered scar tissue alike, as though that said it all.

She smiled out the corner of his eye, "I see."

"Could be that you're teasing a rabid dog, my Lady." She despised it when he called her that title in private, same as he spat on 'Ser.' His bite covered the pounding of his heart - a sensation spread through all the arteries in his body… especially the neglected one below. 

Her nose scrunched up, helping his resolve some, but the womanly flush to her cheeks and chest caught his eyes a moment later. Against his will, images of the Lady Sansa - Lady of Winterfell - on her knees before him, made his cock throb.

"I have had this conversation with you a thousand times," she spoke as though it were true, "In dreams and midday thoughts. As I bathe or break my fast. We have had this discussion so often that I find this one, in particular, tiring."

Sandor had few appropriate words, so he said nothing in turn.

Looking back to the bend in the hall, she continued, "As Lady of Winterfell I am allowed to do as I please, if that means I take a lover like so many great Ladies before me, then that is my choice."

"They'll whisper in court," he snarled, imagining their tongues wagging above the edge of his sword. A gathering full of mutes would be the result of her indiscretion and his honor. 

"... they whisper now," she reminded him.

Fucking Little Finger.

An uncomfortable and itchy silence covered the rest of their walk to her chambers. The two guards standing there exchanged looks with him, passed the token to the Lady's chambers, and marched off for their next shift on the palisades. They asked no words about their familiar distance between one another, because true to her words, she could do as she liked now.

At her ornate bedroom door, Sansa turned to him with a hopeful little stare, "If the Lords and Ladies gossip of my virtue, I would rather them mix your name with mine. One day…" her face fell, "I will take a husband. This is a man I will not love but hopefully tolerate. Until then, I would like to know how it feels to be with someone I choose."

Her words sliced his in twos, then fours, then eighths until he found himself panting; hunched over her like a true beast from the woods.

"You're choosing wrong, Little Bird."

Finally, her lips twisted into something stripped of courtesies and falsehoods, "For a man infamous for spitting on so-called honor, you surely clutch to it now, Sandor."

"... Sansa." 

His blood was boiling. Those forced images of Sansa's plump cheeks and loose dresses burned under her blue flames. All he saw now was her: a woman, a Lady, and Sansa.

A victorious smile was his defeat. 

As her door opened, he followed. Her footsteps skidded backward across heated stonework, so he advanced closer. The Lady lifted her skirts, and the dog tore loose her laces. Sandor Clegane was scorched a third time, but the fire slid beneath his nails and behind his teeth, charring the hateful leavings the Quiet Isle never found.

Sansa Stark got what she wanted… because she wasn't a child anymore, but a woman grown - a woman who knew what she wanted and how to obtain it. Oddly enough, it's all Sandor ever wanted for her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. If you have time, please let me know what you think. If anyone else would like a 500-1000 word drabble of their choosing. Hit me up on Tumblr or Twitter. Links in the description. <3
> 
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